In A Pickle

Aaaah, McDonald's. You've been there for me through thick and thin. Remember the times I visited you in Hong Kong when all the other food tasted like fish? Or those days in England when only a Happy Meal could rescue us from blustery days? And now, here we are, en France, and we rendezvous yet again.

But now we have une petite problème: Abby only likes hamburgers with ketchup and pickle. And when I tell the garçon at the counter "un hamburger avec ketchup et pickle seulement" he just gives me a quizzical look. "Les petit choses vert?" He holds up a little packet of sauce. "Non, dans le hamburger" I mutter. "Ahhh! les cornichons" he says, smiling. Success!

I gather the food (that's a very small milkshake, I might add-no wonder Americans are so fat) and rush outside to the waiting family. Sophie and Sam start gobbling their McNuggets and I happily start in on some frites. Abby does the usual check of her hamburger only to find: mustard and onions.